First Last Dance
by Rosemary Ariana
Summary: Steve visits Margaret Carter in the nursing home in 2013. Short one shot.


**Author's Note: Don't own anything! Hope you enjoy. :)**

"_A week next Saturday, at the Stork Club."_

The whitewashed walls and beige carpeting of the nursing home living room hardly resembled the Stork Club as it was in 1944, but Margaret was feeling just as nervous. The other inhabitants had been buzzing with the news of her visitor tonight, and were all crowded on the seats in the atrium waiting for his arrival. Margaret sighed and shook her head; at least they had agreed to vacate the living area for the night. She looked to the old record player in the corner on a spindly legged end table, and smiled at her choice of song. It was something slow, like she had promised him. Turning back to her book to wait, she caught sight of herself in the ornate mirror hung on the eastern wall. White hair in waves to her shoulders, and dressed in her floral shift dress: it was formal, but still simple enough that the carers were able to help her dress and undress. Margaret had forgone makeup, except for a swipe of coral lipstick. She regretted that it wasn't red, like he would remember, but all it would have done is make her look sickly and highlight the differences even more.

The clock chimed – _"Eight o' clock on the dot, don't you dare be late." _– and she heard the titters of the others in the atrium as the bell over the front door sounded. Thankfully, Agnes kept any comments to herself – or at least her neighbours – and soon he was stood there, in the doorway.

"Good evening, Captain," Margaret said slowly, a hint of a tremble in her voice.

"Peggy," he breathed, walking forward and coming to a hesitant stop. Margaret smiled.

"I haven't gone by Peggy since I became Director of SHIELD, Captain," she teased. Steve smiled softly, but then frowned.

"Are… I wasn't being presumptuous, was I? Coming here? I mean, Fury told me you married." Margaret sighed. Steve's inherently kind nature hadn't changed, then. _Hadn't had chance to_, something whispered inside of her.

"Yes, in 1954. A man I met in Surrey, visiting my godmother. We loved each other dearly, but he passed away in 2001." _He knew I loved you first_, she doesn't say.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Peg. How have you been doing?" He asked quietly, going to sit in the chair next to Margaret's.

"To begin with, it was difficult adjusting to this place. The pace of life…Well, you know SHIELD. It wasn't what I was used to. But I'm doing alright, now. The others here are nice, friendly, and I get lots of visitors." Margaret smiled. "But we can talk later, Captain. I believe you owe me a dance?"

Steve stood so quickly the chair tipped backwards a few inches, and Margaret chuckled. He flushed lightly as he stood in front of her, holding his hand out. Margaret took his hand and raised herself off the chair, watching as Steve held himself back from aiding her further. She walked slowly over to the phonograph and set the record playing, and then settled into Steve's arms. With his hand in hers and his forearm circling her waist, she felt comforted as she hadn't since her husband had died.

Steve walked forward slowly, and smiled nervously. "Natasha's been teaching me, but she says it's difficult without a practical lesson," he said sheepishly. "I wanted my first dance to be you, Peg."

"That's alright," Margaret's gaze softened. She stepped backwards with Steve, and watched as he gestured his head to the left before stepping in the same direction.

They danced quietly for a few minutes, Margaret leaning on Steve's shoulder. They spun slowly, a slight stumble in both their steps, and Margaret caught sight of them in the mirror. Steve had worn a collared shirt and khakis, and for a moment, Margaret swore her hair regained its full brown colour. Her lipstick became red. Her dress spun out further than it should, and her shoes gained a larger heel.

For a moment, she was Peggy again, and it was beautiful.

Steve jerked his arm to Margaret's shoulder blades as a sudden coughing fit struck her. He helped her settle in her chair and poured her a glass of water from the side table before turning off the music.

"You alright, Peg?" He asked quietly after the coughing had subsided.

"Just fine, Steve."


End file.
